You Only Die twice Filler
by Arysta
Summary: Filler for You Only Die twice Amanda's Dead!


YOU ONLY DIE TWICE – Filler

The man called Scarecrow sat at his kitchen table, slowly sipping his coffee, waiting for his eyes to remember how to focus. He was thinking about the previous few days, when his former paramour had visited the office. Once he had thought of Sylvia's hair as silky, her eyes as darkly calling him. Now all he saw was a woman with a strong mouth and a taste for danger. Who had changed, he wondered, although he knew it was himself. 

  
He savored the rich, bitter taste and turned the pages of the newspaper absently. He didn't have much to do for the day, there weren't any huge cases on the docket. No covert agents chasing him down to kill him. That he knew of. He would go into the office, of course.

  
He wondered if he'd see Amanda there. Amanda, he mused. She struck him as a cross between a mischief-born elf and a heaven-sent sprite. She drew him, with her innocence and her gentle heart. He was a jaded agent, he knew, and she deserved better. 

  
Flipping the pages of the newspaper, he pulled one sheet too hard, almost ripping it. He found himself facing the obituaries. He read them over half-heartedly, remembering the days he had seen his own covers in the paper - and the real names of his friends and co-workers. Every once in a while, he half expected to see his own.

  
Coffee was in his mouth when he read the name "Amanda King." The liquid ended up splattered across the clean newsprint; soaking through layer after layer. Lee quickly brushed away the mess, squinting and swearing, to read the tiny print. It did indeed say Amanda King. He laughed off the shaft of fear that had gone through him, marveling at the similarity, but his hand began to shake as he read further on. Suicide. Amanda's address. He grabbed the table to support himself. 

  
"No," he whispered, struck, "no, not Amanda." 

  
She wouldn't have, he thought, but his traitorous mind kept butting in. How would you know, it asked, you never let yourself get close to her.  
He staggered over to the phone, dialing the familiar number with a stiff finger.

  
His boss answered on the fourth ring, just as Lee was getting ready to slam the phone down. 

  
"It's Scarecrow," he said, startled to realize his voice was wavering. He explained the situation quickly and succinctly.

  
"Damn it," Billy said, "She wouldn't have. Would she?" 

  
Lee ran a hand through his hair, clutching the phone. "Look, it can't be her. It can't be." His fingers were white, he saw, detachedly. "Who would want to take her out?"  
Billy was silent for a beat. "She's an agent, Scarecrow, same as you, same as me." His voice was strong and firm. Lee wondered how it was possible. It was Amanda they were talking about - she wasn't even a full agent! Lee knew, however, that she had to be prominent to the right people - she was with him on a lot of cases. 

  
"Look, Bill, I have to see her."

  
"I'll make some calls and find out where she is. We should have been notified, damn it." He was already gone, and Lee simply hung up the phone. He wandered into the bedroom, shucking his robe and pulling on trousers and a shirt with little care. He ran his hand through his hair again, and slumped onto the bed. 

  
"Amanda," he murmured. He pictured her. Felt the coldness, the detachment melt, begin to ache in his heart. "Maybe," he said, standing. "It's not her, it's a mistake." He stalked to his bar, got a drink and tossed it back. The burn seemed to help the growing ache, not eliminating it, but dulling the edges somewhat.

  
The phone rang. "She's at the city morgue," Bill said quickly. "Found DOA at County General, shipped to the police for examination."

  
"City morgue?" Lee asked. "Arlington?"

  
"Right. They opened a file on her with the police. There was a bullet wound."

  
Lee felt the glass slip from his fingers, chunks of ice toppling on the carpet and tumbling around. The glass bounced. He didn't see or hear any of it. "Someone got to her." No way Amanda would have shot herself. 

  
Billy was silent, assent in itself. "I'll meet you at the morgue."

  
"Okay." 

  
He pulled on his shoes, grabbed his wallet and keys, pulled on a jacket and left, all in a haze of sorts. He realized, suddenly, he was by his car, and unlocked the door, swiftly climbing in. The silver Corvette revved, then came up to speed as Lee started down the street. 

  
The boys, how could they understand? Who would take care of them? And her mother? Who did they have left? They couldn't them think that their mother - that her daughter, had committed suicide. A bullet wound. Lee twisted expertly through the streets. Maybe someone wanted it to look like suicide. The 'vette screeched around yet another corner, his handling precise. 

  
Lee was startled to realize that his heart was pounding, and he actually felt a prick at the back of his eyes.

  
The morgue. A tall, dark building. He had identified more than one collegue there, and conferred with others. His car fit into a slot right by the door. He disregarded the handicapped sign at the spot.

  
Inside it was quiet, and there lingered in the air the thick odor of formaldehyde. It clogged his nose. He knew where he was going, and headed toward the identification room without hesitation. Billy was waiting for him, sitting on a chair outside the door.

  
"Is it her?" He asked.

  
Billy seemed to stare for a moment, the shook his head. "I haven't been in there. I talked to the examiner, though, and it sounded like Amanda." He looked off into space again. "I wonder who got to her." 

  
Lee seemed to wilt, his legs felt like they weren't going to hold him up. "Whoever it was, I'll find them. I'll hunt them down and kill them." Like they killed her, he left unsaid. My beautiful Amanda, her mother , her boys, all alone. He should have known better than to get her involved at the agency. It was all her fault. 

  
"Are you going to be all right?" Billy asked. 

  
"What? There's the examiner." 

  
Coming down the hall was a man Lee had met a few times before. He was short, and had a pronounced paunch. 

  
"Mr. Stetson," he greeted, holding out his hand. Lee shook it perfunctorily. "As I've already told your colleague, she came in the very early this morning. Bullet wound to the chest. Fall from some height, she was on top of a delivery truck." He pushed open the door to the identification room, chuckling. "It gave the young driver quite a scare when he realized it." 

  
"I can imagine," Lee muttered, following Billy into the room.

  
"We're waiting to do the autopsy, we want a sure identification first," the ME said, walking directly to a table. On it was spread the figure of a woman, arms stretched out, feet pointing straight up. She was nude, and wore a toe-tag. It wasn't the first time Lee had seen a dead body, but nausea curled in his stomach. 

  
Lee felt his heart start to pound in his check. He was six feet from the table, and stepped cautiously closer, five feet, four... Billy hung back in the doorway, motioning him to go on with his hands.

  
I don't want to, Lee wanted to scream, I don't want to see her! I don't want to see her dead! 

  
"Here she is," the ME said, signaling Lee to come closer. He walked slowly, silently. 

  
Her hand was white, her skin was white. He noticed her smooth shoulders, tried to make himself look up, look at her face. Until he saw her face, he knew that he could tell himself that it was anyone else. Not Amanda.

  
He looked.

  
And almost shouted in exaltation. It wasn't her. He turned to Billy, jubilant. "It's not her!" 

  
"What?" The older man asked confused. He came over. "It's Sylvia!" 

  
Lee turned to look and realized that it was indeed his former lover. He turned to Billy. "What the hell is going on?"

* * *

  
Lee had managed to get his emotions completely under control by the time Amanda walked into Billy's office, brandishing the obituary section of the local newspaper. He had briefly mentioned the trip to the morgue, but had been very careful not to go into any details. Even Francine was oblivious to what had gone on. Billy had kept blessedly quiet on the subject. He had still felt somewhat buoyant, and hadn't minded in the least taking her to the grocery store and paying for what she needed.  
That's how he came to be one the phone, checking in, while she shopped. He finished his conversation and hung up just as the automatic doors slid smoothly open. Amanda juggled two full paper bags, peering over them with bright eyes. Lee couldn't help but smile. 

  
He took the bags carefully, following her to her car. He set the bags on her back seat, and got out, leaning against his own car, smiling all the while.   
"Popcorn?" Amanda offered, holding out the bag. 

  
Lee took a handful, thinking about Sylvia stretched out on the table in the morgue. It could have been her, his Amanda, he knew. He knew what the feeling was like now, and as he made sure she drove off safely, he made a resolve to be more careful with her. He didn't want to have to go through it again. 

  
He breathed a sigh as she headed home. She was officially dead - nothing could happen to her for a least a few days, right? He climbed into his corvette and smiled as he rode off down the street - the white knight on his charger. 

END


End file.
